


(I Wanna) Burn You With My Bad Days

by hegemony



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, F/M, Light Bondage, Makeup Sex, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Roleplay, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hegemony/pseuds/hegemony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What she really needs, now that the company's in shambles, the Armor's been reverse engineered by the DOD, and her personal assistant turns out to be James fucking Bond, is a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(I Wanna) Burn You With My Bad Days

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle under the prompts "missing, comfort, loss, stable, banter, ties". 
> 
> Assumes the relationship from [ (The Constant Road) Across the Wilderness](http://archiveofourown.org/works/221476) and [Left Out (When I Want To Be Inside)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/269957): Essentially, Rhodey and Pepper have been together since Tony's disappearance in Afghanistan. As a consequence, the rooftop kiss at the Stark Expo in IM2 does not happen. Sorry, '2 seals' joke.  
> I have literally been trying to write this fic for porn battle for years.

“Look, he's moping, you're moping, can't you two just mope in each other's direction?!” 

“Tony.” 

“No, I'm serious. I'm trying to make everything not about me for once in my life, so please, at least be the mopey twins and make each other happy in your mopey utopia because the two of you are way too awkward after he stole my shit and you tried to pin your PR nightmare on me and it's seriously fuckin' up my workflow right now.”

“Tony.” 

“Call Sassafras already!” 

“Okay,” Pepper grumbles, “okay.”

 

 

 

 

Natalie—no, no, she reminds herself, _Natasha_ \-- stares at her for a thoughtful minute, like she's rifling through a list of possibilities, but there's only one possible match, Pepper thinks to herself, only one that would possibly make sense, honest. 

Natasha's eyes fly up, with the sort of look Pepper imagines most people never really get to see. _Miscalculation likely: does not compute_ she thinks cruelly, and pushes the thought back down before she ends up getting killed with a plastic salad fork. 

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Pepper asks to change the subject. “We still have a few bottles of the good stuff from the expo.” 

Natasha hesitates, but Pepper's already up and opening the wet bar by the television, picking up the bottle of Proseco and peeling back the foil. 

“Yes, please,” she nods. 

“Good,” Pepper says, and undoes the cork, pours into two glasses. “I would hate to drink alone.” 

“What are friends for, right?” Natasha asks, and takes hers with an unsure smile. Actress, Pepper thinks, if only her own poker face were that pretty. “I wouldn't've guessed you and Rhodes. You seem quite devoted to Stark's well being.” 

“Old personal assistant habits die hard. And as for Jim, well, it's a long story,” Pepper replies, thoughtfully. 

“Intel denoted a gap in his whereabouts a week after the Gulmira incident,” Natasha says, simply. “He was on leave from his unit for approximately a month and a half.” 

Is it seriously that easy? 

“Well, I guess the story's quite short, then.” 

Natasha looks like she's not really good at this. Probably because it's true, “tell me about him?” 

“You don't have to do this, you know,” Pepper says. “You...don't have to be my friend. You're only my assistant for another week or so--” 

“Pepper,” Natasha says, firmly, “please?” 

She weighs the merits in long silence, takes a drink of her wine and tries to clear her head.

“People don't surprise you much, do they?” Pepper asks. 

“I tend not to do much dwelling upon the moments where they do,” Natasha says, and sweeps her hair up off her shoulder. Pepper nods, sighs. 

“Things were great between us, if that's what you're asking. He understood, and didn't care about us looking silly together,” Pepper replies. “We were busy people, but it made sense.” 

“That changed?” 

“The last time we saw each other was at the birthday party,” she shrugs. “Lots of things have changed since then.” 

“Have they?” Natasha asks. 

“I mean, with Hammer and the expo and...” 

“Nobody volunteers to be put in a position fighting against the people they love the most, not really. But he's a soldier and sometimes they have to follow tough orders.” 

Pepper stops. “Is it cruel to ask if you're speaking from experience?” 

“If you have to ask,” Natasha smiles, “Yes, Pepper, I have experienced that before, with people I had strong feelings for, and it is incredibly hard. It hurts more than you think.” 

“Hmm.” 

“I have no investment in this,” Natasha says, pauses to lick her lips and sort her words. Pepper thinks she means something kinder, maybe, “but if I were to bet on him, and things were good before? I suspect he's waiting.” 

“For what?”

“For you to find peace with the things he's done,” Natasha says, and sits back on her chair, taking a long drink. “Even the most heartfelt apologies could sound a bit hollow in these circumstances.” 

“I don't even know what he would apologize to me for,” Pepper shrugs. “Tony's been trying to get him into that suit for months, talked about it nonstop. And...SI moved to energy development, it's not like our old military contracts were going to stay that way. Sure, I guess I'm CEO and it's terrible to be held responsible for that whole thing with Hammer, but...” 

“Have you thought of telling him that?” 

Pepper stops. “No, I...I guess there were just too many other things I had to do. Have to do. Still need to do.” 

“But he's important to you?” 

“I...yes,” She says. 

“Then find a way to tell him,” Natasha says. “He doesn't have much espionage training, so it wouldn't make sense for him to shake these sorts of things off too easy.” 

“Rhodey's a tougher cookie than most people think.” 

“I expect nothing less, but he's got to be facing guilt from all sides. As a partner, you could be of some help.” 

“Ease his burden,” She thinks aloud. “I should call him.” 

“No you've already started drinking, so that's a bad idea,” Natasha says quickly. “But, you should find a way to get around to it, eventually.” 

Another sip, and Pepper allows herself a bit of disdain. “But if any apology he gives could be hollow, wouldn't my saying I forgive him be just as hollow? It's sort of a catch 22, everybody's a little disingenuous when it comes to intellectual property theft.” 

Natasha snorts, the way Natalie used to under her breath in their limos and town cars as Happy drove across town. Pepper gives a fleeting moment to wondering how much Natasha's like Natalie, and which parts of Natalie were the perfect fabrication. Maybe she'll ask later, when Natasha's playing drunk and Pepper's the real thing. 

“I'm sure you could find some way to absolve him,” she says. 

Pepper leers, and tips her glass in Natasha's direction. “Do you mean sex?” 

“I could,” Natasha looks endlessly amused as she toes off her heels and stands up from the chair, walking over to grab the bottle before walking back, refilling Pepper's glass. “But it doesn't mean you should completely let him off the hook.” 

“Rough him up a bit?” 

“More like,” Natasha pauses to find her words and take another drink, “holding him accountable. So you need a plan.” 

“Yeah,” Pepper says, “I need a plan.” 

 

 

 

 

 

Jim's still in his blues when Natasha leads him in, but he's got his sleeves rolled up like he's been working too hard. She supposes she has, too. Funny, that. 

“Your seven o'clock, Miss Potts,” Natasha says softly, and places a padded envelope on the corner of her desk. 

Pepper stands, because it's show time, and steps from behind the desk. She smooths her dress down before she gives away everything. “Thank you, Natalie. Have a good night?” 

She can see Jim's brows furrow at the implication. 

“I have to finish up a few things,” Natasha warns, “but I won't disturb you when I leave. Have a good night Miss Potts, and you as well Colonel.” 

“Miss Romanoff,” he says. 

They stay silent, standing there in the middle of the room as Natasha walks off, Pepper can feel Jim's eyes on her as she turns around and walks to open the padded envelope. And she is still so unsure of this, her heart racing in her chest. 

The door closes, gently, and they are alone. 

“You wanted to see me?” Jim asks. 

The envelope holds sashes of silk and a handful of safe sex supplies. Natasha Romanoff, patron saint of complicated relationships, Pepper thinks to herself before walking around her desk and slipping the envelope into the drawer. 

“Yes, Colonel, I believe I did,” she says. “Have a seat.” 

He takes one of the chairs aside her desk. She looks up through her bangs and makes a face. 

“Not there.” she says. 

“So where would you suggest?” he asks. 

“I think I'd like to stand for a while, so my chair's free,” she replies. 

He hesitates, “Is this because of the...” 

“I know you've thought of it,” she interrupts, flashes one of the smiles she used to give him back when they were still in limbo, hopeful and a little naïve. “So do yourself a favor, and sit in my chair, Rhodey.” 

“What's your play?” he asks. 

“You being comfortable, for starters,” she insists. 

He chuckles as he walks around her, “it's not the starters I'm worried about.” 

She grabs his arm. He brings his hand to her waist. 

“Tell me we're okay,” he exhales. “I need that, I need you to say it.” 

A voice inside her teases that she should stretch this out, make him work for it, but the cadence of his voice is a little too worried, and she knows she'll her fun one way or another. So she leans her face toward his and takes his lips for a moment, kisses him like it's the first time all over again, back in the doorway of that old house, her body so tired as it leaned into his. 

She hopes she kisses like 'I love you', 'I forgive you', 'I've caught you doing much worse than this', and pulls away as his mouth goes slack. 

“Now,” she says, breath coming fast, “Sit down in my chair.” 

“You are really serious about that,” He points out as he falls from her grasp. The chair swings around, he sits. His long and agile fingers trace idly along the white leather of her armrest, and she thinks of those fingers stroking her thigh, her clit, sliding inside her and bringing her off. 

“You look good there,” she says as she leans against the desktop and looks at him, the desk, the R&D lab glowing in the window behind him. She lets her fingers idly trace the exposed skin of her collarbone, pretending not to notice how he's glanced down at the creamy skin between her breast more than once. 

“So what have I come here for?” he asks. 

“All business, Jim?” she asks, and imagines a parallel universe where Tony's recklessness put him in control. Things would be different, there. Maybe better. 

“You tell me,” he answers. 

“We have a matter to settle,” she says.

“Oh, really?” he asks. 

“Afraid so,” she hoists herself to sit on the desk, legs crossed primly to the side, “I am responsible to my share holders for Stark Industries and its associated patents and I have it on good authority that you have stolen patented materials from me and my employees.” 

“Tony's your employee, now?” he sounds amused, but willing to play along. She reaches a gentle hand out to his tie. She traces the line of blue polyester, the knot hanging loose from his neck with a well manicured finger. 

“In a manner of speaking. Colonel, you're purposely missing the point,” she informs. 

“What point is that?” 

She wraps the fabric around her fingers and pulls. He holds his hands away, lets his body follow toward her. 

“You stole from me,” she says, “I don't like it when people steal from me, Jim.” 

“You know how complicated that situation wa...” 

“You think patronizing me will work?” she crowds in, uses her free hand to trace at the line of his jaw. A tease of a kiss on his lips, and she's got him, she knows it. “Yes, I know how complicated things were, and in cases like these, I'm a fond proponent in eye for an eye.” 

He licks his lips, curls his fingers around the armrests, makes space for her as she finally lets his tie go. 

“You gonna take my big metal suit away, Pepper?” he asks. 

“Come now,” she says, and stands to open the drawer. She flicks the silk sash from the envelope, pulls the end and keeps pulling. There's two of them, hooked together with a safety pin, one half the length of the other. “Where's the fun in that?” 

“You tell me,” he suggests, pushes himself forward in the chair, ready to stand. She thought this might happen, the pushback once she revealed a little of herself. She places a heel between his legs, anchors him back down. 

“Hard already?” she asks. 

“What can I say, I'm appreciative of women in power,” he shrugs, pushes a hand flat against her calf, dips down and drags wet lips across her naked thigh. 

“How very feminist of you,” she replies, grabs his hand at the wrist and slides it up to her knee. “Put your other hand here.” 

He obeys, and she unpins the long sash, folds it in half like Natasha showed her and wraps it around his wrists, around, around. 

“Pepper,” he says, and lifts his eyes to hers. 

“My color looks good on you,” she replies, as she splits off the remainder, finishes her knot. It's a deep, blood red, the red of war and pain and splayed across his palms and wrists it looks fantastic against his skin, true nature contrasting a well starched uniform. “But I'm not so cruel to not entertain a complaint or two on the nature of my work.” 

“You mean you want me to tell you when to stop,” Jim asks. 

“If you feel the need,” she says. “It would be only right, I know you aired grievances with your former employer, too.” 

Jim sits back a little, leans his bound hands down her leg. There's a pause, the two of them staring at each other. 

“I think I'll be just fine,” he says. 

She hoists him by his tie again. 

“Then, I want you on your knees,” she says. 

He smiles, and falls to the floor. 

“What's in it for me?” he asks, looking up at her. 

“Glad you asked,” she says, as she reaches for the bottom zipper pull of her dress, lets it creep up from knee to thigh to hip, pulls aside the curtain and reveals that she's wearing absolutely nothing underneath. 

“Naughty girl,” he admonishes. 

“We both know acting without scruples is the only answer, sometimes,” she sighs, opening up her legs a little wider and pushing him down and in, toward her. He gets with the program quick, even though he's got little use of his hands. “I'm sorry, is this too easy for you?” 

He pulls away but before he can answer she's taking the other sash and wrapping it around his eyes, knotting it behind his head, pulling his arms up until they're completely extended, up and out and so close to her lips. She leans back, sits back on the ledge of the desk, pulls him with her and lets him grope with his mouth, trying to find what he can. 

He's heaving now, as she wraps her legs around the trunk of his body and anchors his head in her crotch. There's a little finagling, miscommunication but it lines up and his tongue finds her, licks and rolls and breaches until she can barely think of anything other than this, rolling herself against him. His tongue is agile and careful, tasting all the parts of her that he can. 

She brings her mouth to his fingers, splayed out against the air. “God, you're so well behaved. Always so good at doing your job, Rhodes?” 

He hums a sing-song acquiescence against her clit and it takes everything she has not to vocalize how good it feels, his steady presence against her as impending orgasm fizzles up her spine. He stops for a breath against her skin. She reaches down to pull at the neat bow she'd made at the base of his skull. 

His mouth is wet with her, and he leans back into her like he's lost. It looks good on him, a little.

“C'mon, c'mon,” he groans. 

“You're hard, aren't you?” she asks 

“Among other things,” he points out. 

“Good to see you're coherent as well,” she jokes, unzips her dress all the way.

“Not to say I wouldn't eat you for much longer in a more comfortable position, but can I please get up now?” Jim's mouth makes a ridiculous twist, and she fights the urge to kiss it off his face. “It's been a long day, and your chair mat is ruining my knees.” 

“Okay,” she snorts. “Find the chair and sit down, then.” 

“Oh fuck you,” he replies, grabs hold of her and pulls himself to his feet. She probably shouldn't indulge in this kind of comedy, not when the plan was supposed to be so serious and meaningful and sexy, but watching him attempt to find the chair is just a little too good to pass up. 

“Warmer,” she says, opening the drawer again, reaching for a condom. “Warmer.” 

“This is what you really wanted, right?” he asks, unimpressed.

“It's reflective of the last few weeks, yes,” she replies as he runs his hand over the back of her chair, turns and attempts to sit. “You and I both know you're a stickler for metaphor.” 

“This is a terrible metaphor, Pepper,” he jokes, and sits obediently in the chair. She checks his knots, watches as he tries to budge a little before raising his arms up above his head and over the back of the chair, up and out of her way. 

“Keep still,” she says, and reaches for his tie again, pulls him onto her lips. He kisses like he's impatient, and she supposes he is but--

“Pepper, c'mon,” he whines, and she's reaching down for his belt buckle, his pants. He lifts his hips obediently as she peels the layers back, finds his warm skin. She bends, swipes her tongue at the head just to hear him moan and watch him grab for something to hold onto. She teases like she's completely satisfied with leaving him hanging, having him sit there and take whatever she gives him. 

She was supposed to say something about controlling his pleasure, right now. Something about how it's all hers to take, but she's looks up and sees his chest rise and fall, smiles against his hip. “I like making you happy.”

“I like making you happy too,” He laughs, reaches down for her with his bound hands, smiles. “But I have to tell you: you're terrible at this game.” 

“Keep saying things like that and I'll leave you here like this,” she replies, but lets his fingers caress the lines of her face, slow enough to memorize. She rolls her hands into the folds of his hips for a moment, returns her mouth to his cock, running her tongue down the underside, laying a kiss at the base. 

“Pepper,” he says, gently. She knows what he wants, and doesn't mind giving it to him. Not when it's a gift to herself as well, in this position. She reaches for the condom, opens it and uses a packet of lube to prepare it. She stretches the condom over him, presses her fingers to his cock, readies him as she kicks off her shoes and slides into his lap. “Oh, fuck, goddamn.” 

“That's right.” She leans in for a moment, the sort of smile on her face she wishes he could see. “You won't like what happens if you get ahead of yourself, Colonel. Don't come before I do.” 

She punctuates it with a clench of her muscles around him, and sits back, gives her room and raises his hands in surrender, back where she put them to begin with. He feels familiar inside her, and she lets herself have him slow. She doesn't know which one of them moans, but knows its long and low and a little loud as she finds her rhythm on him, tucks her head low to take his mouth. 

Jim kisses like he's never needed anything so much, like he's poisoned through with her and oh, what a thought as he squirms and learns she's everywhere, that he has no place to move his hips or anything underneath his shoulders.

“Please,” he groans, puts his head down on her and groans for it, spreads his thighs as wide as they go. She rides him like she wants to make him come first, slow and steady until she's shivering all over, He puts his arms over her head, and she leans forward and lets the narrow V slip over one shoulder and then the other, down and down to her waist, caging her in, pulling her closer. He leans her back in, and her hips change their angle with it. 

“Rhodey!” 

He thrusts into her, pelvis putting pressure on her clit, and that final little bit snaps right into place. 

“Use me, make yourself come,” he pleads. She pauses, opens up her dress completely and shirks it clean off, rubs herself against him chest-to-chest, knowing he hates the fact that he can't feel her skin against his. And the chair leans, back, back, back so far that they're almost vertical and it's not so surprising when it goes crashing to the floor, the sudden jolt a surprising sensation inside her. She puts her hands on his shoulders, and fights for it, until her toes are curling and she's forgetting to breathe and she's there, so close.

It's taking everything he has to hold back, to obey her orders and she sees it in the line of his neck, in the way his fingernails are clawing into her back, in the way he's arched up to her, solid decadent wall of pressure. 

He thrusts into her jaggedly, no part of him on solid ground and she takes that chance to fall apart around him, doesn't care about the scream, as he shakily thrusts into her over and over until he's spent, deflating around her. 

“Miss Potts, is everything alright in there?” Natasha's voice cuts through whatever was supposed to come next. “I heard a crash and...” 

It takes a moment to wiggle out of Jim's embrace, and he makes an incredibly unbecoming sound at the loss. There's a moment for her dress, and her head pops over the desk. “Um, yes, Natalie, everybody's fine. Remind me tomorrow to start looking for a new desk chair, please?” 

Natasha's mouth curls under in whatever is the Russian spy approximation of a smile. “Yes, Miss Potts. I was just on my way out, Happy will be waiting for you.” 

“I think you should tell him I said to go home, too,” Pepper says, “there are a few loose ends here to, uh, yeah, tie up.” 

“Alright, Miss Potts, if you insist,” Natasha says, and closes the door. 

Jim's still flat on his back, but he's already started to work at taking the condom off, knotting it up, shimmying back into his pants. Funny, she thinks, he's alarmingly good at that.

“You have to be blushing so hard right now,” he deadpans. 

“How are you doing that?” She asks. “Why did you go for the condom instead of your blindfold?” 

He shrugs, pulls himself into a crunch to zip and button his fly. 

“In case you didn't notice it's really drafty in here because you know, office,” he replies. 

“I totally just had sex with you in my office,” she sighs. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, because it's obvious of course it's obvious. 

“I'm turning into Tony more every day in this job,” she says. 

“Do me a favor and not mention Stark until you've untied me?” he asks. “Unless you expect to add 'stealing my car and driving me home' to your list of 50 Shades tonight.” 

“You did not,” she gasps. 

“I did, and frankly my inner goddess could use a nap,” he nods, and reaches up with his hands to pull her back down, bring her mouth to his. She finds the end of the silk mess at his wrists and tugs, the knot disappearing and the material thrown away. She takes one of his hands, loops her fingers between his. 

“A lot's been going on,” she sighs, and flicks his blindfold up and away, “I'm sorry we haven't talked about what went on.” 

“I am, too,” he says. “I should've told you. I'm sorry I didn't, I'm sorry you had to see me like that.” 

“You wouldn't be here if I didn't forgive you,” she smirks. “Just don't do it again.” 

“I love you and I can't promise you that,” he says. 

“Then lie,” she says. 

“I will never, ever steal anything from you again,” he says. “Toothpaste, french fries, intellectual property, pens...” 

“Accepted,” she nods. “Now about those fries.” 

 

 

 

 

 

“So it worked, then?” Natasha asks, later. 

“Yes,” Pepper nods. “Thank you for all your help.” 

“What are friends for?” She says, even though Pepper can see her typing a 'mission accomplished' text out to Tony.

Yeah, Pepper thinks, solving all your problems is exactly what they're for.


End file.
